


Ashes

by interficix



Category: Fandomless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3625023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interficix/pseuds/interficix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story I had to write for class, so I wrote it about two OCs of mine, including some of my friends' OCs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Queen Genevieve Tyranall furrowed her brows, rubbing her temples tiredly as her advisors grumbled and argued around her. They were at war, and they were worrying over potential suitors, how her dark hair would be styled, and what the wedding colors would be. She had just been liberated from Sania, the kingdom with which her own was fighting, and they wished to marry her off like nothing ever happened. They thought recovering from her injuries was as simple as sleeping it off. It never was quite that simple, even after having so many healers work over her.  


She had been seventeen when she was kidnapped, and it felt like she would never leave that castle. It felt like she was paraded about, the men and women of the nearby villages scrambling to see the once proud princess be treated like trash before their very eyes. It took nearly three years for her forces to reassemble and rescue her. The battle had been bloody, and it lasted for nearly two weeks, with Genevieve’s head guard, Isaac, rescuing her after five days.

She could remember the trip from Sania back home. It felt like she was collapsing in on herself. Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving water marks on the cloak she had been wrapped in. She felt as if she were flying and, before she knew it, they were back at the castle. It had been destroyed, completely in shambles. Everything her family had worked for was gone. For all she knew, her father and brother were dead. It wasn’t until two years later that they found their way back. Of course, Elicius never mentioned what happened to him, as well as her father. They would hold such a tale to their graves, she was sure.

The sound of metal armour creaking and boots stomping upon the marble floors shook her from her memories as her light eyes raised to meet two figures. First, her elder brother, Elicius. He had been gone due to the fighting, therefore leaving her to take the throne. His mane of dark hair was pulled back into a bun, keeping it neatly out of his eyes as he strolled into the throne room, a forced smile on his lips. It was so easy to tell when his smile wasn’t genuine; when it was forced, his teeth never showed.  
Next was Enzo Amici, a prince from an allied kingdom of Jastein. He was arrogant, very much so, in fact, but he had always been sweet to her. He followed after Elicius, grinning brightly at Genevieve. From what she could remember, and that wasn’t much, Enzo helped Elicius and Isaac, her head guard, to rescue her, sending troops to their aid. He was practically family, and his mother felt as if she was her own daughter, especially after the death of Genevieve and Elicius’ mother.

The young woman stood and made her way toward the two, knocking lightly on Elicius’ chestplate. “One would think we have better options for armor than just metal..” Genevieve sighed, frowning slightly. Elicius smirked and ruffled her hair gently, pulling her into a hug.

“Believe me, sister, if there were better options, we would have found them by now.” He sighed, releasing her from his embrace and taking a step back. Enzo cleared his throat and folded his hand behind his back.

“Your Grace, we have news from the front. Your generals are rather.. busy, which is why we came bearing it.”

A brow rose in curiosity. “Oh? And just what is it?”

“Well,” he began, “I would prepare for the worst. This war is not exactly going well..” The prince stated, glancing over at her brother, who lowered his head shamefully. “It seems that with every legion we wipe out, another comes to replace it. King Trevyr has become ruthless in his conscriptions, going as far as to take ten year old boys, and even girls to fight,” Enzo announced.

“I know I promised to kill those men, Gen,” Elicius sighed, “but their armies are just far too strong. Their armor is better, their soldiers are faster and better equipped. We cannot beat them.”

Genevieve grimaced and ran a hand over her face. They couldn’t just lose the war. If they did, they’d all be slaughtered and she couldn’t just allow her home to be destroyed because her armies didn’t try hard enough. “There.. have to be some other options,” she murmured, more to herself than to the other two. “An assassination or something.. There has to be someway to finish this damn war!”  
Both men stared at her, Elicius sighing and reaching to put a hand on her shoulder.

“Genevieve,” he whispered, “We will figure this out, one way or another,” he promised, pulling her into a hug. His arms tightened around her, her head resting lightly against his shoulder.

Tears began to well in her eyes, her previous expression of anger changing to that of vacancy. If they lost, if Sania conquered them, she’d be kidnapped again. Taken to be nothing more than a laughing stock and to be abused. The simple thought of simply stepping foot into that country pushed her to tears. They had to win, they just had to.

* * *

Two days passed, and stories from the front were getting worse. Supplies lines were beginning to taper off, and her forces were freezing to death. The only thing to truly be thankful for was that her advisors had switched their views to the war, rather than Genevieve’s marital status. It was more and more often that she found herself sitting in front of her bedroom window, staring at the horizon, a thin white line showing where the sky and ocean met. Perhaps it will be today that they come for us, she often thought, wringing her hands nervously.

Knocking sounded on her door, a guard rushing in.

“M’lady! Y-Yer brother an’ Prince Amici require yer presence in th’ throne room!” He panted, nearly doubled over from running up the stairs. Genevieve froze for a moment before nearly running out of her chambers, shoes tapping against the stone staircase as she rushed into the throne room. Sania couldn’t be approaching, they just couldn’t be. Gialian forces had held them back this long, after all.

The large mahogany doors opened as Genevieve walked swiftly into her throne room, Elicius and Enzo turning to face her. Both had a hand resting on the swords that were at their sides, and their expressions were unreadable, annoying the queen quite a bit. She was always able to read people’s emotions from their expressions, and not being able to do so worried her.

“What happened?” She asked before even reaching them, her voice carrying across the empty hall. “What is going on? What have they done?” Her heartbeat quickened, the worst possible scenarios playing out in her head. Her armies, slaughtered, and Sanian forces coming for the castle, coming to take them back into captivity. She had to hold her tears back, trying to keep from showing weakness at such a time. She’d be no help to her people if she was scared.

“We have news, obviously,” Enzo piped up, taking a step forward and bowing politely, “from the front. Isaac and his men are returning, so it must be serious.”

“They wouldn’t return if it was something minor,” Elicius commented. “They would have just passed it along.”

Anxiety clawed at Genevieve’s stomach, her heart flying to her throat. What if they really were coming to kill them? She wrung her hands nervously, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she stepped towards her throne. Instead of merely sitting, she stood on its left, tapping her nails gently against the throne’s arm. Silence filled the room as the three waited, the tension affecting all of them, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

The minutes stretched to hours, which felt like an eternity. Two servants brought armchairs for Elicius and Enzo, which they gladly took. Genevieve had long since sat on the throne, eyes diverted down at her hands. No words were spoken between them: There was no need for any to be spoken. They all knew the consequences of losing the war. Elicius frowned and moved his seat closer to his sister, gently putting a hand on her arm.

“All will be well,” he whispered, “I promise it. I will not let them touch you.”

Genevieve said nothing, keeping her eyes on the doors leading to them. If they were coming, she’d put on a brave face and take her sentence with dignity. Fighting and screaming wouldn’t help her people in the long run, after all.

The creaking sound of those mahogany doors echoed through the hall, the young queen straightening herself as two of her best knights, Isaac and James, walked in, their armor clinking loudly. The former was older, his face scarred and wrinkled. There was more silver hair atop his head than his usual ginger, and the bags under his eyes were dark, betraying his lack of rest.

James was younger than Isaac, but a decade older than Genevieve. He had enlisted for the armies at a very young age, from what she was told, and he rose through the ranks quickly. His eyes were dark and forever stoic, his auburn hair always pushed back neatly. He was quiet, always serious when it came to his work, and Genevieve liked that about him. She had always felt safe around the two, but today she wasn't sure whether to smile at their arrival or to grimace.

"Your Majesty," Isaac said, his right arm crossing his chest so that his fist could rest over his heart. James mimicked the movement, eyes never leaving Genevieve. "We have news from the battlefield."

"Well, what is it? I have waited for hours to find out not only my fate, but the fate of my people, and I have no desire to wait any further!" The young woman stated quite loudly, getting to her feet. "I have been told that we will win one moment, only for the same people to tell me that we shall lose and that my head will be on a pike within moments. I'm sick of these predictions, Isaac! If it isn't decent news, I demand that you gather your best men and--"

"We've won, your Majesty." Isaac said, voice booming over hers. "You needn't worry any longer. Rather than your head on a pike, we have Trevyr's. Sania is now yours to do with as you please."

Genevieve felt frozen, her arms and legs locking as she processed the news. They won.. After five years, they won. Tears came to her eyes, a soft cry leaving her as Elicius came forth, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. He whispered words of comfort to her, but she couldn't understand as she cried into his shoulder. She no longer had to worry about whether or not the next day would be her last. Her anxiety flowed out of her, the young woman slowly regaining her calm demeanor.

Wiping the last few tears from her cheeks, she nodded, chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek. The four men looked toward her, waiting for her to say something, anything, in regards to the news. Taking a few steps, she passed by the two knights, hands folded behind her back as she walked. Their eyes remained trained on her, watching as she went to the dark doors that had opened not five minutes before. It was there that she turned her head slightly, and spoke, her voice carrying through the lofty throne room.

  
“Tomorrow, we march. I want to leave nothing but ashes.”  



	2. Final Edit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final edit of my short story for class. Includes two OCs of my creation, as well as several of my friends' OCs. There are only minor changes from the original draft.

Queen Genevieve Tyranall furrowed her brows, a finger running over the copper scales of the dragon that remained perched on the arm of her throne.. They were at war, and they were worrying over potential suitors, how her dark hair would be styled, and what the wedding colors would be. “Could you all leave?” Genevieve hissed, glaring up at the men that surrounded her. “I do not need any of you to determine anything for me, just as my father before me did not need you.” The dragon, Aeris, watched them leave, amber eyes staring unblinkingly at them as smoke flitered out of it’s nostrils. The infant reptile still found the select humans tiresome, even after so many years.

Of course, it was not five years beforehand she had received the creature that she had liberated from Sania, the kingdom with which her own was fighting, and her advisors still wished to marry her off like nothing ever happened. They thought recovering from her injuries was as simple as sleeping it off. It never was quite that simple, even after having so many healers work over her. She had been seventeen when she was kidnapped, and it felt like she would never leave that castle. It felt like she was paraded about, the men and women of the nearby villages scrambling to see the once proud princess be treated like trash before their very eyes. It took nearly three years for her forces to reassemble and rescue her. The battle had been bloody, and it lasted for nearly two weeks, with Genevieve’s head guard, Isaac, rescuing her after five days.

She could remember the trip returning home. It felt like she was collapsing in on herself. Tears streamed had  down her cheeks, leaving water marks on the cloak she had been wrapped in. She felt as if she were flying and, before she knew it, they were back at the castle. It had been destroyed, completely in shambles. Everything her family had worked for was gone. For all she knew, her father and brother were dead. It wasn’t until two years later that they found their way back. Of course, Elicius never mentioned what happened to him, as well as her father. They would hold such a tale to their graves, she was sure.

The sound of metal armour creaking and boots stomping upon the marble floors shook her from her memories as her light eyes raised to meet three figures. First, her elder brother, Elicius. He had been gone due to the fighting, therefore leaving her to take the throne. His mane of dark hair was pulled back into a bun, keeping it neatly out of his eyes as he strolled into the throne room, a forced smile on his lips. It was so easy to tell when his smile wasn’t genuine; when it was forced, his teeth never showed.   
Next was Enzo Amici, a prince from an allied kingdom of Jastein. He was arrogant, very much so, in fact, but he had always been sweet to her. He followed after Elicius, grinning brightly at Genevieve. From what she could remember, and that wasn’t much, Enzo helped Elicius and Isaac, her head guard, to rescue her, sending troops to their aid. He was practically family, and his mother felt as if she was her own daughter, especially after the death of Genevieve and Elicius’ mother.

Last was Nicholas Mayne, a thin, yet well muscled mage who had been under the Tyranall’s employment for as long as Genevieve could remember. He was handsome, albeit scarred from battle. Dark hair was always swept back, strands only falling into his fair eyes when he ran, whether it be to battle or to help the young noble with medical needs.

The young woman stood and made her way toward the two, knocking lightly on Elicius’ chestplate. “One would think we have better options for armor than just metal..” Genevieve sighed, frowning slightly. Elicius smirked and ruffled her hair gently, pulling her into a hug.

“Believe me, sister, if there were better options, we would have found them by now.” He sighed, releasing her from his embrace and taking a step back. Enzo cleared his throat and folded his hand behind his back.

“Your Grace, we have news from the front. Your generals are rather.. busy, which is why we came bearing it.”

A brow rose in curiosity. “Oh? And just what is it?”

“Well,” he began, unable to find the correct wording.

“I would prepare for the worst, your Grace.” Nicholas interrupted. “This war is not exactly going well..” The mage glanced over at Genevieve’s brother, who lowered his head shamefully. “It seems that with every legion we wipe out, another comes to replace it. King Trevyr has become ruthless in his conscriptions, going as far as to take ten year old boys, and even girls to fight.”

“I know I promised to kill those men, Gen,” Elicius sighed, “but their armies are just far too strong. Their armor is better, their soldiers are faster and better equipped. We cannot beat them.”

Genevieve grimaced and ran a hand over her face. They couldn’t just lose the war. If they did, they’d all be slaughtered and she couldn’t just allow her home to be destroyed because her armies didn’t try hard enough. “There.. have to be some other options,” she murmured, more to herself than to the other two. “An assassination or something.. There has to be some way to finish this damn war!”   
Both men stared at her, Elicius sighing and reaching to put a hand on her shoulder.

“Genevieve,” he whispered, “We will figure this out, one way or another,” he promised, pulling her into a hug. His arms tightened around her, her head resting lightly against his shoulder.

Tears began to well in her eyes, her previous expression of anger changing to that of vacancy. If they lost, if Sania conquered them, she’d be kidnapped again. Taken to be nothing more than a laughing stock and to be abused. The mere thought of stepping foot into that country pushed her to tears. They had to win, they just had to.

 

Two days passed, and stories from the front were getting worse. Supplies lines were beginning to taper off, and her forces were freezing to death. The only thing to truly be thankful for was that her advisors had switched their views to the war, rather than Genevieve’s marital status. It was more and more often that she found herself sitting in front of her bedroom window, staring at the horizon, a thin white line showing where the sky and ocean met. Perhaps it will be today that they come for us, she often thought, wringing her hands nervously.

Aeris never left her side, claws poking into the skin on her shoulder as he stood guard, a brief, short stream of fire leaving his maw if anyone dared to get too close without her permission. Although it was rare that anyone did, in those two days. She never left her chambers, hardly leaving the chair that sat before her window.

Knocking sounded on her door, a guard rushing in.

“M’lady! Y-Yer brother an’ Prince Amici require yer presence in th’ throne room!” He panted, nearly doubled over from running up the stairs. Genevieve froze for a moment before nearly running out of her chambers, shoes tapping against the stone staircase as she rushed into the throne room. Sania couldn’t be approaching, they just couldn’t be. Gialian forces had held them back this long, after all.

The large mahogany doors opened as Genevieve walked swiftly into her throne room, Elicius, Enzo, and Nicholas turning to face her. Enzo and Elicius both had a hand resting on the swords that were at their sides, while Nicholas folded and unfolded his hands, flickers of purple electricity flickering around his hands and exposed forearms. Their expressions were unreadable, annoying the queen quite a bit. She was always able to read people’s emotions from their expressions, and not being able to do so worried her.

“What happened?” She asked before even reaching them, her voice carrying across the empty hall like the ringing of a bell. “What is going on? What have they done?” Her heartbeat quickened, the worst possible scenarios playing out in her head. Her armies, slaughtered, and Sanian forces coming for the castle, coming to take them back into captivity. She had to hold her tears back, trying to keep from showing weakness at such a time. She’d be no help to her people if she was scared.

“We have news, obviously,” Enzo piped up, taking a step forward and bowing politely, “from the front. Isaac and his men are returning, so it must be serious.”

“They wouldn’t return if it was something minor,” Elicius commented. “They would have just passed it along.”

Anxiety clawed at Genevieve’s stomach, her heart flying to her throat. What if they really were coming to kill them? She wrung her hands nervously, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she stepped towards her throne. Instead of merely sitting, she stood on its left, tapping her nails gently against the throne’s arm. Silence filled the room as the three waited, the tension affecting all of them, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

The minutes stretched to hours, which felt like an eternity. Two servants brought armchairs for Elicius and Enzo, which they gladly took. Nicholas stood by the throne, refusing any seat offered to him. He saw no need to sit in the presence of nobles. Genevieve had long since sat on the throne, eyes diverted down at her hands. No words were spoken between them: There was no need for any to be spoken. They all knew the consequences of losing the war. Elicius frowned and moved his seat closer to his sister, gently putting a hand on her arm.

“All will be well,” he murmured, “I promise it. I will not let them touch you.”

Genevieve said nothing, keeping her eyes on the doors leading to them. If they were coming, she’d put on a brave face and take her sentence with dignity. Fighting and screaming wouldn’t help her people in the long run, after all.

The creaking sound of those mahogany doors echoed through the hall, the young queen straightening herself as two of her best knights, Isaac and James, walked in, their armor clinking loudly. The former was older, his face scarred and wrinkled. There was more silver hair atop his head than his usual ginger, and the bags under his eyes were dark, betraying his lack of rest.

James was younger than Isaac, but a decade older than Genevieve. He had enlisted for the armies at a very young age, from what she was told, and he rose through the ranks quickly. His eyes were dark and forever stoic, his auburn hair always pushed back neatly. He was quiet, always serious when it came to his work, and Genevieve liked that about him. She had always felt safe around the two, but today she wasn't sure whether to smile at their arrival or to grimace.

"Your Majesty," Isaac said, his right arm crossing his chest so that his fist could rest over his heart. James mimicked the movement, eyes never leaving Genevieve. "We have news from the battlefield."

"Well, what is it? I have waited for hours to find out not only my fate, but the fate of my people, and I have no desire to wait any further!" The young woman stated quite loudly, getting to her feet. "I have been told that we will win one moment, only for the same people to tell me that we shall lose and that my head will be on a pike the next. I'm sick of these predictions, Isaac! I’m exhausted of being told that we’re losing! If it isn't decent news, I demand that you gather your best men and--"

"We've won, your Majesty." Isaac said, voice booming over hers. "You needn't worry any longer. Rather than your head on a pike, we have Trevyr's. Sania is now yours to do with as you please."

Genevieve felt frozen, her arms and legs locking as she processed the news. They won.. After five years, they won. Tears came to her eyes, a soft cry leaving her as Elicius came forth, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. He whispered words of comfort to her, but she couldn't understand as she cried into his shoulder. She no longer had to worry about whether or not the next day would be her last. Enzo stood, smiling slightly as he waited for Elicius to release Genevieve and, once he did, the prince hugged her, as well. He gently pecked her on the cheek before stepping back, flashing a bright smile.

“Congratulations, your Majesty,” he murmured, “but if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my country with the news. Mother and Father will be overjoyed.” With that, he bowed and turned, striding towards the exit. Genevieve sniffled, eventually regaining her usual calm demeanor.

Wiping the last few tears from her cheeks, she nodded, chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek. The four men looked toward her, waiting for her to say something, anything, in regards to the news. Taking a few steps, she passed by the two knights, hands folded behind her back as she walked. Their eyes remained trained on her, watching as she went to the dark doors that had opened not a few moments before.

“My Queen?” James asked, his deep voice filling the silent hall, “How might we proceed?”

It was then that she turned her head slightly, and spoke, her voice carrying through the lofty throne room. “Gather whoever remains,” she said. “Tomorrow, we march. I want to leave nothing but ashes there. I want nothing to remain.”

The two knights looked at each other and, repeating the gesture they made upon entering, left, walking past the queen in a hurry. Elicius and Nicholas approached her next, her brother wrapping his arm around her and leading her from the hall.

“I knew it.” Nicholas piped up. “I knew we’d win. It was only a matter of time. He was far too arrogant.”

Genevieve smirked, placing a hand on her forehead. Exhaustion dragged her arms and legs down, her legs feeling heavier and heavier with every step. Before she knew it, Elicius had picked her up and carried her into her chambers after sending Nicholas off.

As she was tucked under silken blankets and heavy quilts, all she could think of was how she’d no longer have to worry over petty wars or being kidnapped. All she’d really have to worry about were her advisors and their pointless worries over her.


End file.
